


Sway

by SilverSanctuary



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, Alcohol, Comfort, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSanctuary/pseuds/SilverSanctuary
Summary: “G’raha, would you dance with me?”His voice abandoned him as his heart thundered in his ears, so he simply nodded quickly.5.3 SpoilersUnnamed DNC f!WoL/G'raha
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53
Collections: Final Fantasy XIV - Crystal Exarch x WoL Recommendations





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> cw: alcohol consumption
> 
> 5.3 spoilers ahead - takes place after the Some Days Later cutscene.
> 
> The first part of this was written for the FFXIV Write prompt Sway.

The voices of the patrons of the tavern in Revenant’s Toll bubbled up into the rafters, bursting with songs and curses and laughter. Previously so ensconced in the looming quiet of the Crystal Tower, G’raha couldn’t remember the last time he was in a place that was so loud.

Thancred came back to the table bearing several glasses of mead and placed one in front of each of the Scions.

“Cheers,” he said, raising his tankard, “to a job well done! And proving that these bodies can, in fact, fight again.”

They raised their glasses and drank with a hearty "huzzah."

“Those hippogriffs didn’t stand a chance,” Alisaie smirked. “Not with all the force of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn coming down on them. Although you all _really_ should have saved some more of them for me. I was on a roll.”

Alphinaud chuckled. “They were not the most fearsome foes we have ever faced, to be sure. But, in case you forget, dear sister, you _were_ about to get slashed in the back if it hadn’t been for our new comrade here.”

G’raha’s ears twitched as the focus of the table turned to him, and he took a nervous sip of his drink. The alcohol burned down his throat, and he fought the urge to cough.

Urianger smiled good-naturedly. “Indeed, thy performance was most spectacular, considering that thou art still rediscovering the intricacies of thy aetherical manipulation.”

G’raha forced himself to not duck his head. _These are my friends now_ , he reminded himself. He quickly recited the mantra he used to tell himself when he was first cultivating the persona of the Exarch. Chin up, shoulders back, spine straight.

“Fair glad I am that my powers could be of service,” he answered. “As a Scion now, I shall endeavor to protect my friends and allies.”

A well-timed spell from his new crystal staff had felled one of the beasts that was reared to attack the fearsome Leveilleur red mage. Alisaie had rushed into the battle with a joy that G’raha found amusing and refreshing, and although he had kept an eye on the hippogriffs themselves and his comrades, his eyes were drawn -- _of course, always, in every lifetime_ \-- to the Warrior of Darkness.

No, he corrected himself. She was the Warrior of Light in this world, and her performance on the battlefield solidified that title. She fought _radiantly_. She leapt and swayed, the lightness of her feet marching out the technical step. Aetherical shapes bloomed from her - a spray of roses and leaves, birds and crowns. She arched and swung, the swish and swirl of her bladed chakrams cascading through the air, an entrancing waltz of flourishes and fanned feathers that brought her enemies to their knees.

He watched her now, from over the rim of his drink. She chuckled and reminisced with the Scions as they recounted past battles and made plans to visit their friends in the myriad lands across the star. A fiddle started up in the tavern, and he watched her drink and hum and sway.

The music trilled, and she suddenly brightened at the tune. With a gasp, she grabbed Alisaie’s wrist and pulled the girl to the dance floor that was forming in the middle of the tavern. They laughed and spun, the Warrior leading Alisaie through the steps with ease and grace: quick spins, arms lifted up in joy, a sashay of shoulders and hips, a low kick before twirling again.

“Shall we show them how it’s done?” Thancred asked, turning to Y’shtola. She tilted her head at him and then quirked a smile. “One dance,” she acquiesced, and they too rose from the table and joined the dancing. Their movement was more fluid, less frenetic, with elegant sweeps of their arms around their heads as they glided in opposite directions from each other, spinning back together with a nod and a smile.

When G’raha managed to turn his gaze back to his remaining companions, he cleared his throat. “Ah -- please, if you would also like to join the dancing, do not let me keep you--”

Alphinaud shook his head. “Alisaie will come for me sooner or later, but between us, I would prefer if it was the latter or not at all.”

"I rather prefer to remain here as well," Urianger intoned. "I do not believe I have danced since my time in Sharlayan, except mayhap briefly to provide entertainment for the pixies.”

Alphinaud groaned at the mention of the pixies, and G’raha found himself chuckling. He cast back in his mind, trying to remember the last time he had danced, and with the exception of a quick jig for the pixies and some silly spins for Lyna when she was very small, he came up blank. The Crystal Exarch did not _dance_. There had been too much death and anxiety to allow himself that luxury. Before his long stint on the First, he confronted the horrors of the aftermath of the Eighth Umbral Calamity, and before _that_ \--

His tail curled and his ears flattened at the sudden memory of swaying drunkenly by himself around one of the campfires at the Saint Coinach site, thrilled to bursting with the discoveries of the Labyrinth of the Ancients, trying desperately to have the enchanting Warrior of Light rest her eyes on _him_ , to convince her to rise and take his hand and grace him with a dance.

She had simply laughed at his antics and excused herself to bed.

He sighed and took a gulp of his drink. With the mention of Sharlayan, Urianger and Alphinaud’s conversation had strayed to reverent tales of Master Louisoix, and G’raha found himself listening more to the music than their words. The alcohol thrummed in him now, and he glanced back over at the dancers, his gaze finding the Warrior with color high in her cheeks, eyes bright as she swayed.

Their eyes met, and he looked away abruptly. He took another drink. After a moment, he chanced another glance and found her over in the corner talking to the musicians, and then she was turning and walking back towards their table, fairly glowing with exertion.

She leaned over him and held out her hand.

“G’raha, would you dance with me?”

His voice abandoned him as his heart thundered in his ears, so he simply nodded quickly.

She squeezed his hand and pulled him up, leading him towards the dance floor but stopping a little bit away. They passed Thancred and Y'shtola as they returned to the table, who both gave him cryptic looks that G'raha could not parse.

He took a deep breath and bounced a little on the balls of his feet.

“I regret that I may be out of touch with the latest ballroom etiquette," he quipped, trying to grasp firmly onto the reins of his confidence, to force the fluttering of his breath into a more normal pattern.

“Worry not. I shall teach you.”

And she walked him through the steps -- two steps to the left, two to the right, then one left and one right. Turn to face each other. Spin, clap, spin, clap. Grasp her hand, lean forward, lean back. Trade places, spin and clap, spin and clap, spin once more back to his starting position -- with each of his hands placed primly in hers, his back to her front, pressed so close to each other that he could feel her breathing and the exaggerated roll of her hips with every step forward.

His tail puffed out, but there was no time to worry about how a blush was doubtless creeping all the way down his neck. Their lesson was over, and a new song began -- the one that went with these steps, the one she had requested, and as she pressed herself flush against him and moved forward, they began.

“It gets faster,” she breathed in his ear before they spun apart. He felt the full length of his arms and legs, willed them to move smoothly and not as a gangly mess. He would pause abruptly as his brain struggled to remember which step came next, but then he would catch her twirling out of the corner of his eye, and he spun to match her. Spin and clap, spin and clap, come back to her, feel the strength and heat of her pressed against him. As she warned, the tempo increased slightly with each round, but after the third time, his body moved more freely, and he _danced_ with her, uninhibited, unencumbered, for this one night of joyful celebration.

He burst out laughing.

They came back to their starting places, and with a brash flick of his ear, he slipped behind her instead, gripping her hips rather than her hands. He did not miss the soft “ _ha!_ ” that escaped her lips at his brazen swapping of positions. Pulling her back into him, he rolled his hips as they stepped forward -- to the left, to the left, to the right, to the right -- with his hands ghosting over the swaying of her body before spinning away.

When the music faded into the next song and their dance ended, the Warrior wrapped her arms around him with no hesitation. He fluttered his hands on her hips and buried his face into her shoulder, trembling in her embrace.

For so long, he had felt himself falling, hurtling towards fate, towards oblivion, towards an inexorable finality framed in fractured crystal.

It was an unspeakably lovely thing to be held in her arms and feel like his heart had wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> WoL and Alisaie dance the Gold Dance, Thancred and Y'shtola dance the Thavnairian Dance, and WoL and G'raha dance a version of the folk dance Korobushka as taught to me by my best friend at our local Renaissance festival.
> 
> Want to be a part of our weird community of writers and readers? Join Emet-Selch's Book Club today! https://discord.gg/PZTEBHW


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